


wait for me (i’m coming too)

by Jamaninja (entersomethingcleverhere)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BUT WE’RE DOING IT ANYWAY, Dark Rey, F/M, Light Side Ben Solo, Role Reversal, TROS is not canon, That’s Not How the Force Works, Time Travel Fix-It, happy star wars day, kind of rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entersomethingcleverhere/pseuds/Jamaninja
Summary: The one thing that Jedi and Sith can agree on is the fact that the Force works in mysterious ways.———When Ben sees Rey’s lifeless body, he calls to the Force to bring her back. But instead, it brings him back — back to the night Luke tried to kill him.Ben Solo has a second chance, and he’s not messing it up.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Kylo Ren/Ben Solo
Comments: 171
Kudos: 394





	1. you have to take the long way down

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first Reylo fic and I’m super nervous but also super excited to share it with y’all. 
> 
> Like pretty much everyone, I was really pissed about TROS and since Disney+ decided to put it out today, this holy and most sacred day, I figured we all needed a fix-it of sorts. So here’s my attempt.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The one thing that Jedi and Sith can agree on is the fact that the Force works in mysterious ways.

* * *

Ben doesn’t quite know how he manages to pull himself out of that pit.

To say he is exhausted would be an understatement. Fighting off the Knights who once reported to him, then fighting off the evil puppet master who’s been pulling the strings all this time, the evil Palpatine — all of it drains him until he feels like nothing more than a shriveled husk.

Yet, he continues to climb. He climbs and climbs and climbs, ignoring the scream of broken ribs, spent muscles, finished joints. He doesn’t know what still holds him together, but he doesn’t give it much thought beyond using it to keep going.

When he finally — finally — summits, he drags his body over the edge with nothing more than sheer determination. He’s finally on horizontal ground, he thinks hazily as he drags air into his lungs. He’s done. It’s over.

But then he looks over and sees Rey. She’s not breathing.

No. _No._

His exhaustion leaves him as he scrambles to her. He pulls at her body, hauling it over his lap. Her eyes, her beautiful, expressive, hazel eyes are blank. Her chest is stiff and unmoving. The limbs, those same graceful limbs he’s seen create and destroy in alternate strokes, they’ve gone limp and Ben swears it’s like every single muscle in his body has turned to lead.

He can’t speak. He can barely breathe. This can’t be. This _can’t be._

Ben pulls her chest flush to his and Rey’s head slumps to his shoulder. He can feel his heartbeat pounding relentlessly, but hers is achingly silent. He closes his eyes to reach out for any sense of a Force signature, but there’s nothing. The brightness he’s grown accustomed to has left him.

She’s gone. He’s alone.

His mind flinches away from this. He can’t be alone. He’s been alone for so long. He can’t do this anymore. Not without her.

He pulls her body away and settles her over his lap. There’s a wound embedded deep in her side, and he presses his hand against it. She did this for him, once — it felt like ages ago, but he remembers it. He remembers how the Force undulated around the two of them, how it surged into him and knitted his skin together, erasing the wound like it never existed.

He tries. He tries so hard to call upon the Force and channel it into her body. He calls to it, screams at it, begs for it to come to him in this, the time of greatest need.

Nothing.

The silence that greets him is what undoes him in the end. Whatever it was that kept him together as he climbed out of the pit has left him. He comes apart, barely registering the tears that stream down his grease-stained cheeks.

He couldn’t understand it before. He didn’t have the capacity to understand it, when the connection first pulled them together. But then Palpatine — of all people — helped him understand the nature of their bond. A dyad in the Force. Two as one.

The Force has always sought balance, and that is what they are. Balance.

He can’t exist without her. She can’t be gone.

In one last, desperate attempt, he closes his eyes, gathers what’s left his broken spirit and dives into that aching pit in his soul that once housed his connection to Rey. He blows past all the hurdles in his way, deeper and deeper into the hum of the Force, deeper than he’s ever gone before.

It feels like hours. Maybe even days. He keeps going until —

— he sees it. He feels it. Her Force signature is there. He knows.

Ben follows it. He runs after it until...until…

When he opens his eyes again, Rey has disappeared. Instead of alone in that cavernous chamber, he is on a pallet that feels so familiar.

And then he looks up and he sees a haggard, bearded man with a wild look in his eyes, hovering above his prone form, a bright green lightsaber held high overhead.

“Uncle Luke?” he whispers in shock.

This happened once before. Ben remembers that night with heartbreaking clarity. It haunts him when he closes his eyes, that look on his uncle’s face as he’s about to deal the killing blow.

He remembers how he brought the hut down around them, then razed his Uncle’s temple to the ground in all his anger and fear. He remembers how he escaped and ran to Snoke, who welcomed him with open arms. He remembers reliving this moment for Rey.

He remembers inviting her into his mind and showing her what happened. He remembers her righteous indignation, her anger toward his uncle. He remembers feeling overwhelmed by that.

All he ever wanted was for someone to stand up for him. She was the first to do it.

But Luke stays his blade. And he just...he just stands there, and the two of them continue to stare at each other in bewilderment.

What is this? Ben’s heart is pounding in his ears. Why is he back here, in this nightmare?

“Ben…” Luke’s hoarse voice is like sandpaper to his ears.

Ben scrambles out from underneath the blankets on his pallet and away from his uncle and his hovering blade. Then he darts out the door, running hard and fast.

He runs and he runs until he’s out of breath. The moon hangs high overhead, casting the night in a silvery glow over his uncle’s temple. He stares around in confusion and shock and fear. The grounds are quiet. Almost peaceful, if not for the fact that his uncle is back there with a lightsaber meant to go through him.

It’s exactly as he remembered, all those years ago.

Fear wells up inside him. Where is Rey? He followed this path to find her, but instead he’s — he’s —

Ben runs to the lake at the edge of the temple and heaves. There’s nothing for him to heave, though, so he convulses and shakes until he feels emptier than before. Then he collapses, his fear growing and growing until he can hardly breathe.

When Ben was young, that sibilant, slithering voice in his head had told him that fear was the key to power. If he let his fear take over, he would one day become powerful, more powerful even than his uncle. More powerful than anyone in the galaxy.

He lifts his head to stare into the rippling waves of the lake. What he sees nearly has him heaving again.

He sees his face. But the scar Rey dealt him is gone. His hair is shorter. The lines around his mouth and eyes have disappeared.

This is his face — this _was_ his face.

This _was_ his face all those years ago. His face when he was still under Luke’s wing. His face from before — before he turned to Snoke, before he donned the mask, before he killed his father.

This is his before face.

Ben reaches up to touch it, watches as his reflection does the same thing.

“What _is_ this?” he whispers to himself. “What — how — ”

He feels the Force well up inside of him, confining his fear into the back of his mind. His shaking hands still as he allows it to overtake him, succumbing to its call.

It shows him that night when he first raised his hand and she pressed her fingers against his. It shows him what he saw, when they touched: Rey at his side. It shows him as they slayed Snoke and the Praetorian Guard. It shows him as they fought side by side to defeat his own Knights and then Palpatine.

Then it shows her lifeless form in his arms, and he flinches so hard from the image that he falters in the Force’s embrace.

It’s wrong, he insists. She can’t be dead. They are a dyad. He cannot exist without her.

The Force overtakes him again, this time showing him as he reaches out to find her once again, to bring her back from the dead. But instead of him reaching out to pull her from the beyond, he latches onto something else — a thread with a whisper of Rey’s signature. Instead of pulling it toward him, he feels it pull him…

And now he’s here.

His eyes fly open and he stares down into the lake again.

* * *

Both Sith and Jedi agree that the Force works in mysterious ways.

What neither understand is the Force will do what it must to remain in balance.


	2. through the underground, under cover of night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben has a lot of things to make up for — but so do the other people in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’ALL! Your feedback on the first chapter was so heartwarming and kind! I have to admit, I was SO NERVOUS about sharing this story, but the encouraging words are everything to me. Thank you so, so, so much.
> 
> Also, HUGE shout out to DottieSnark and etherealthere for being the best and helping me flesh out this story as I breathed hysterically into a fandom-shaped paper bag. You ladies are the best! 😘

Not a day goes by when Han doesn’t look back at something that happened in his past and feel regret.

He’d rather face the business end of a blaster before he admits to anything of the sort, but he has finally let himself admit that he is, in fact, not perfect. That he has made mistakes (OK, fine, a _lot_ of mistakes), but at least he feels bad about them.

That’s gotta count for something, right?

The mistake he ruminates on the most, perhaps, is his family.

He’d never had one when he was young, or at least, one that was willing to stick around. All the people in his past had a habit of leaving, so it isn’t any wonder that he developed that habit himself.

He’s haunted by the look of betrayal in his son’s eyes when he dropped him off at Luke’s temple, all those years ago. He’s haunted by his wife’s sobs when he packs his bags and storms off in the night, both of them knowing he’s not coming back any time soon. 

Han Solo walks away. It’s what he’s best at.

_“Han.”_

He looks up to see Chewie holding a comlink out to him. He raises his eyebrows.

_“It’s Ben.”_

Shock overtakes him. Ben? But —

His son has refused to talk to him for years. Ever since he and Leia brought him to train under Luke, Ben shut them both out of his life, refusing to talk whenever they tried to com or whenever they came for a visit. Ben holds grudges longer than a Hutt, and Han does what he’s best at.

He walks away.

In spite of himself, Han reaches forward to take the comlink from Chewie.

“Ben?”

“Dad?”

Maker, how long has it been since he’s heard his son’s voice? The last time they spoke, Ben had been on the edge of puberty. Now his son’s voice is deep, deeper than his own.

“How are you? Are you OK?”

A pause stretches between them. Then — 

“Dad, I don’t want to be here anymore. Please.”

Han can count on one hand the number of times he’s come back after he’s walked away. It’s not something he’s good at, going back. Going back means he’s admitting fault. Going back means saying he was wrong in the first place. He has too much pride for that.

But there’s a desperation in his son’s voice, and it tugs at a piece of his soul. He thinks about the betrayal, the last memory he has of Ben’s face. He remembers the sound of his wife’s tears. 

He’s long since come to the conclusion that if he could go back in time and take it all back, he would, in a heartbeat. But in lieu of going back in time, he can at least go back now and try to make amends…

...can’t he?

“I’m on my way, son,” he says gruffly into the comlink.

*

When Han makes planetfall on Yavin IV, Luke is immediately there to greet him.

“Han,” Luke says, his face grave.

“What’s going on?” he demands. “Where’s my son?”

The haggard Jedi before him looks the oldest he’s ever seen. Han figures that a lifetime of teaching brats how to use the Force would do that to anyone, but the expression in Luke’s ice blue eyes is one of defeat. 

“Han, I’m...I’m afraid I’ve failed him. I failed Ben.”

“What are you talking about?”

Luke reaches toward him, inviting him with his mechanical arm. “Let’s take a walk.”

*

Ben sits in his hut as he waits. He commed his father, and his father answered. He answered.

Han is alive.

Ben closes his eyes as tears trail down his face. His uncle is alive and his father is alive. The face he wears now is his before face. He’s dressed in all the trappings of the Jedi, when he was still at his uncle’s temple.

And he can feel Snoke’s presence in the back of his mind, trying to breach the walls he started building last night.

He doesn’t know how any of this is possible. But if his uncle is alive and his father is alive and he’s wearing his before face, then somewhere, out in the galaxy…

Somewhere, Rey is alive.

He clings to that thought. It’s what keeps him grounded, what keeps his walls strong as Snoke tries to find a way around or through them. He knows now that the voice that has been haunting him since he was young belongs to that monster. He understands now that he was preyed upon, perhaps since the moment he was born.

He can’t succumb again. He refuses to go back. If this really is a second chance, then he will not make the same mistakes. 

He will make everything right. He will do everything right, so that when he offers Rey his hand, she will take it. 

_“I wanted to take your hand,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “Ben’s hand.”_

He’s Ben now. He refuses to be Kylo Ren ever again.

This will be difficult, he knows. His father is still alive, but so is Snoke. He can feel him now, trying to breach his mental defenses and his fists clench at the thought.

But Ben finds comfort in the thought that he’s already killed Snoke once before. He can do it again.

He hears shouting from nearby, and the Force stirs in him. He can sense his uncle’s signature, agitated and...regretful? Resigned? Sorrowful? Perhaps all three.

But the shouting doesn’t belong to his uncle. It sounds like his father.

The door to his hut slams open and Han is standing in the doorway. Ben’s eyes are glued to his father’s face — his hair is still white, his face still wizened. There are maybe fewer wrinkles, but he can see anger blazing in his eyes.

“Ben? Are you OK?”

Hardly. His father is standing before him, alive and whole. He’s not pressing a palm against his cheek, begging him to come home. He’s not hurtling down a ditch with a lightsaber wound embedded deep in his chest, one Ben dealt himself.

He’s alive and whole and Ben wants to weep.

“Dad,” he whispers, his throat thick from his tears.

Han whips around to glare at the figure in the shadows behind him, and Ben sees his uncle there, gazing at the floor.

“I’m taking him away from this hell hole,” Han declares, “and you are to _stay away from him_ , do you understand me? Or so help me, Luke — ”

“I understand,” Luke says in a resigned voice.

Han huffs through his nostrils, glaring at Luke. Then he turns his head and gestures at Ben. “Come on, son. Let’s go.”

Ben stands from his pallet and follows his father out of his room. Luke makes no move to stop them, but as Ben passes by, Luke looks up. For a brief second their gazes connect, and Ben sees the sorrow in his uncle’s eyes.

He knows now that his uncle believes he failed him. He also knows now that it is the truth. 

Ben follows his father out of the temple and toward the Millennium Falcon. There, Chewie waits for them, keeping the engines warm. Once Han and Ben have boarded, the ramp closes and they prepare for takeoff.

_“Ben.”_

He looks up and before he can stop it, Chewie is pulling him in for a hard, warm hug.

“It’s good to see you too.” His voice is muffled by Chewie’s fur, but he reaches up to return the embrace.

“All right,” Han says, clapping his first mate on the shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Ben’s throat closes up once again, seeing the anger on his father’s face. This time, though, he knows the anger is on his behalf.

He doesn’t know why, but this means the world to him.

The three of them get ready for takeoff, and soon the Falcon is blasting away from the temple and Ben feels like a huge weight is being lifted off his shoulders. It’s like his lungs are finally free to expand with all the oxygen they can hold, whereas before he could only take in a few gulps at a time.

He’s free to breathe. Free to live. Free to be _Ben_.

*

Once they’ve broken free of Yavin IV’s atmosphere, Han tells Chewie to take over for him. 

_“Set course for where?”_

Han pauses for a second. He already knows where they need to go, of course, but it’s hard to get it out.

“Hosnian Prime,” he finally answers. 

If Chewie is surprised, he doesn’t let on. Instead, the Wookiee just nods and plugs the coordinates into the navicomputer. 

Han takes that moment to clap Ben on the shoulder and lead him toward the cabin. He’s still fuming from what Luke told him, and he needs to hear from his son that he’s all right.

They sit at the dejarik table in silence for a long stretch. It gives Han time to study how his son has grown since he’d last seen him.

Han had once said that everything about Ben was too much. His ears were too big, his hair too black and thick, his nose too hawkish, his lips too plump. He was too tall, too gangly, too awkward looking. 

But he’s grown into it. Where Ben had been an odd-looking child, he’s now a striking man, the kind of man that would send women swooning. He’s settled into his features — where his nose was too hawkish, it now looks prominent. Where he was once too tall, his shoulders have now broadened him out. He’s tall and big and strong. Ben is a man now, and Han feels a wave of sorrow at missing out on watching him grow.

He has so many regrets. But he can fix them now.

Or, at least, he’s gonna try.

“Luke told me what happened,” he begins.

Ben’s eyes are glued to the table, but Han notices the way his son’s shoulders hunch up around his ears. “Yeah,” he answers in a hoarse voice.

“Ben, I — ”

Han pauses. Maker, what do you say in a case like this? The poor kid was nearly murdered by his uncle, and Han has never been angrier at Luke. He wants to go back to Yavin IV and wring his stupid brother-in-law’s neck.

Realizing that his anger is rising in him and that Ben can probably feel it thanks to his sensitivity, Han takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down.

“Ben, can you tell me what happened? I want to hear your side.”

That makes his son look up. There’s a look in his eye, almost like disbelief, and that makes Han feel guilty. He knows he hasn’t been the best father — hell, he hasn’t even reached the threshold of a decent father.

But if there’s one thing you know after learning that your brother-in-law almost killed your son, it’s that you will do anything to try and make it right.

“It’s a long story,” Ben finally whispers. “And you...I don’t know if you’ll believe all of it.”

“I will, son. I promise.”

Ben starts from the beginning, which Han realizes is far earlier than he thought. The beginning goes all the way back to when Ben was a baby. All those nights he spent with a wailing infant suddenly take on a new light when he learns how haunted his poor son is. 

Ben tells Han about the nightmares. About the voices. About a monster who whispers in his ear when he’s most vulnerable, when he’s feeling lonely and abandoned by his parents and his mentor. Ben tells Han about how the monster plants seeds of doubt in his head. How it hissed in triumph when Ben finally, _finally_ learns the truth of his heritage. 

Ben tells him how he felt pushed and pulled in every different direction when he found out — how he felt belittled by his uncle’s expectations, inadequate next to his mother’s hopes, abandoned by Han’s actions and distrusted by everyone else. How the only hope he felt was from the voice, the dark voice that keeps whispering in his ear.

Ben’s eyes cloud over with tears as he recounts what it feels like to wake from a horrible nightmare, filled with screams and fire and death only to see his uncle standing over him with a lightsaber and a crazed look, ready to strike him down for reasons he doesn’t understand.

Han’s chest constricts at his son’s confessions. Luke had mentioned how he’s seen the darkness grow inside Ben … but no one, _no one_ realized that the darkness isn’t growing in him. It’s targeting him.

His son — his poor, brave son — has been fighting this far longer than any of them had realized. 

Han reaches forward to grip Ben’s shoulder. “Son,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “Son, I’m — I’m so _sorry_ , I — ”

Tears trail down Ben’s cheeks as he closes his eyes. “Dad, I’m — I’m just so _tired_.”

Han has a flashback to when his son was just eight years old. Against his wife’s wishes, Han had taken Ben with him on a job because Ben had begged, wanting to spend time with his father and his Uncle Chewie.

Han had retrieved the goods and went to Canto Bight for the drop off. The eight-year-old Ben followed close on his father’s heels as they walked through the cantina. But then he saw a young Twi’lek woman being thrown around by a gang of sinister-looking Devaronians, cackling all the while.

And Ben, in all his childish indignation, stomped over before Han could even stop him. He demanded they stop immediately and leave the woman alone. When they sneered and turned to direct their violence at him, Ben used the Force to throw all four of them against the nearest wall, knocking them out.

His son has always been one to fight for others. To stand up against what he believed was wrong.

But all this time, no one has been fighting for him.

Han pulls his son in for an embrace and holds him tightly. “I’m not going to let that monster get you, do you hear? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ben sobs harder, and for a second Han doesn’t think his son heard him. But then Ben’s arms reach up to grip him, and he knows.

He knows it’ll be OK.

* * *

Yes, it’s true that the Force will go to extraordinary lengths to maintain balance.

But it’s also true that when one side of a scale unburdens itself, the other side must take on that burden if balance is to remain.


	3. laying low, staying out of sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness lies all over the deserts of Jakku. Sometimes it’s hard to ignore that pull.

Rey knows the only reason she’s still alive is because Plutt finds her useful. 

The minute he gets his hands on her, he puts her to work in the Starship Graveyard. He throws her into depths of the precarious dunes and leaves her there until she claws her way back out with whatever she manages to find.

Sometimes she finds something that can be repurposed. Those are the days when she goes to sleep less empty than before.

Sometimes she doesn’t find anything at all. Those are the days she goes to sleep aching not only in the depths of her gut but all over her small body, wherever Plutt’s fleshy Crolute fists can reach. 

It’s difficult to live through those nights. It’s difficult to not want to close her eyes and hope she won’t ever open them again.

But she does anyway. She does because she’s waiting. She’s waiting for that ship to come back. For _them_ to come back.

When she was younger, she used to ask Plutt over and over again when her family was coming back. He only ever answered by throwing a fist, and soon enough she learns to stop asking altogether.

She marks each day as she waits, and soon the days add up until all the tick marks take up the entire rusted wall of her AT-AT shelter. One night, for shits and giggles, she decides to count them. It takes her an entire evening, but she reaches the end and realizes that she’s been waiting for ten years.

That makes her fifteen now. 

Fifteen is when things start changing. In spite of all outward evidence to the contrary, she is, indeed, a woman, and her womanly courses begin. It’s a small blessing that they are few and far between, due to the stress of her environment and her malnourished frame. 

But they come anyway. And with it, the unwanted attention.

Rey’s always had to protect herself from the unwanted attention of lecherous males, ever since she was young. But now, at fifteen, they come on stronger than ever, and in greater numbers. Her quarterstaff becomes weather-beaten with how hard and how often she uses it to fend off those who would overpower her and use her body for their own sick pleasures. 

She’s seen the fates of the women who could not do the same. She will not join them.

Fifteen is also when the dreams begin. 

Most nights her dreams are filled with longing, either for the people who left her behind or for something to fill her beyond the veg meat and poly starch. But as her womanly courses begin, as the unwanted attention starts to mount, her dreams are no longer the haven they once were.

They are now filled with images of a figure with an ominous, hissing voice. His face is unfocused and hazy, but he sits alone on a throne surrounded by guards. He beckons to her with every seductive whisper of his voice.

_They will never come back for you._

_They abandoned you._

_They do not love you._

_They do not care about you._

_No one cares about you._

_I’m the only one._

_I’m waiting for you. I will continue to wait for you._

And soon enough, the voice follows her into the waking world. It whispers in her ear as she trudges through the dunes. It stokes her anger with tempting words when Plutt offers her a quarter portion for a part that would have fetched her a full portion just last week. It encourages her when she swings her quarterstaff at a Rodian who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. 

It tells her to finish him off as he lays there, gasping for breath and bleeding into the searing Jakku sands.

_He fears you. When you have finished with him, they will all fear you. You will have the power to travel anywhere free from molestation. With their fear, you could become the most powerful being on this pitiful little planet._

Rey ignores the voice this time. She turns on her heel and goes back to her speeder. But when she’s back in her AT-AT, she can’t help but want to go back to where she left him and finish what she started, as the voice had encouraged.

_You are stronger than them all. One day, you will be the strongest in all the Galaxy. I can show you how._

One day, she thinks to herself as she curls into her pallet. One day.

*

One day comes sooner than she thought.

In Jakku, anger is something that simmers close to the surface at all times. Anger is what keeps her alive, after all — she uses it to fend off her attackers, to dig herself out of the Graveyard, to barter with that slimy Crolute for her fair share of portions.

Rey is no stranger to anger.

But one day, the simmer of her anger ends up boiling over. 

It doesn’t start as a particularly good day. A group of Jawas tries to attack her for her speeder, and she has to spend far too many daylight hours fighting them off until they finally give her up as a bad job. 

Then she spends the hardest and hottest hours of the Jakku day trawling through one of the Imperial starships, coming up with little for her efforts. She cuts through the scorching sands on her speeder, back to Niima Outpost to trade her haul for portions, but Unkar Plutt takes one look at her pitiful scrap and laughs in her face.

His cruel cackling echoes in her ears. The only thing that drowns it out is the voice.

 _He has spent the past ten years treating you like the filth that accumulates under his shoes,_ it hisses. _This pathetic creature has used you and abused you, used you as a punching bag and a slave for a scorching decade, and for what?_

Rey’s shaking hand tightens on her quarterstaff.

He’s _the one who needs_ you. _He cannot survive without the work you do for him. He knows this. It’s why he keeps you under his thumb. There, he sits, in his comfortable stall, dispensing food as he sees fit. But he knows that you hold_ his _livelihood in your hands._ You _are the one with the power. Not him._

“Get this shit out of my sight,” Plutt sneers at her.

_Eliminate him. Eliminate him and you will never go hungry again. You will never go needy again. Eliminate him and everyone on this miserable planet will fear you, and no one will ever cross you again._

The anger simmering underneath her skin bursts forth and before she even stops to examine what she’s doing, Rey jumps through his window and brings her quarterstaff down on Plutt’s meaty head. 

It stuns him for but a moment. Then, with a growl, he reaches for his stunner.

But Rey is ahead of him. She catches her staff underneath his elbow and twists it until the telltale crack signals that she has broken his arm.

He howls in pain. She uses his surprised agony to kick him up against his wall, and the movement shakes the entire stall.

 _Yes,_ the voice hums in pleasure. _Finish him._

“Rey,” Unkar gasps as she presses the point of her quarterstaff against his fleshy throat. “Rey, release me!”

She sees the fear in his eyes, and it sends a thrill through her. 

“You’ve been cheating me for years,” she growled. “Why should I?”

“I‘ll give you all the portions you want!” he begs. “Just please, let me go!”

It’s too late. She knows if she doesn’t finish him now, he will send his lackeys after her to teach everyone else a lesson — never go against him. He, after all, must look like he holds all the cards.

No, she can never let him hold any of the cards again.

She reaches for the stunner he dropped and presses the prongs against his head and sends the strongest electric current right through him. It shakes his gelatinous body with its shock, and then his head flops back. 

His body is charred and still. He isn’t breathing.

The triumph is short-lived, and the panic instead wells up.

Unkar Plutt is dead. She killed him.

As the most powerful junk boss at Niima Outpost, Unkar Plutt has at his disposal legions of scofflaws, from scavengers and bounty hunters to gang members and hit men. Now they will come after her.

Her fear overtakes her, but now the silence in her mind is echoing. The voice is nowhere to be heard. It has no advice to offer her.

She knows there are people standing in shock outside. They all saw her kill Unkar Plutt with their own eyes. And they’re waiting to see what she will do next.

With shaking hands, she stuffs her bag with portions. Then she stomps back into his stall and uncovers two refurbished blasters. When she re-emerges from his stall she points the blasters in front of her, schooling her panicked expression into a furrowed scowl.

No one tries to attack her. The crowds of scavengers and merchants watch her with eyes full of fear.

 _Yessss,_ the voice praises, and Rey feels warmth rush through her veins. _Well done._

*

That night, she goes to bed with a full belly and a blaster underneath her pallet. 

The next morning, she packs up the meager belongings she keeps in her AT-AT, but she leaves the doll and the blaster helmet. They are artifacts from her childhood. 

She isn’t a child anymore.

* * *

When you give people second chances, they do everything in their power not to make the same mistakes.

They make new ones instead.


	4. ain’t no compass, brother, ain’t no map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia learns to fight for something other than a galaxy and Ben learns that parents can come back from mistakes too.

When she thinks about it, Leia Organa has never known a time without war.

She was born into conflict, and she took to it like a fish to water. Fighting is in her blood. It’s all around her. It’s what she’s always known.

So when the fighting stops, when the war ends, when everything settles and peace finally reigns, she gets restless and starts picking fights because she needs to. She needs it. It’s what keeps her stable, it’s what keeps her going. It’s all she’s ever known.

Han knows this. He also hates it. It’s why he leaves so often and for such long periods of time. Things between them get peaceful and then she gets bored and then she picks a fight which causes him to stomp off in the distance.

She knows this about herself. But Force help her, she doesn’t know how to stop it.

*

Leia’s sitting at her desk when she gets a message from Kaydel.

_Your husband is home. Ben is with him._

She stares at the message for a long time, but none of it computes. She hasn’t seen her husband in months. She hasn’t seen Ben in longer than that.

When it finally starts to sink in, Leia bristles. Her damn husband — scoundrel flyboy that he is — this is the exact thing he would do. Ben is supposed to be with Luke, training to be a Jedi to balance out the dark in him. Han had agreed when they finally came to that decision, so of _course_ her damn husband just had to go and get him out.

Clenching her fists and teeth in frustration, she throws all her unfinished work into her suitcase and barks at her office staff that she is going home. They all nod deferentially as she stomps off. 

If she had any doubt that she had gotten the message wrong, it flees the minute she sees the Millennium Falcon parked outside her home. Her anger flares brighter at the sight.

She opens the door and is immediately greeted by Chewie’s deafening roar. She barely has time to give him a stiff smile in return when Han comes up to her and sweeps her up in a hug.

“Leia,” he says warmly as he holds her close, and for a moment she lets herself melt into his embrace.

The moment doesn’t last long, though.

“Don’t ‘Leia’ me,” she snaps, slapping his shoulder until he releases her. “What are you doing here? And why is Ben here when he should be with Luke?”

Han’s face immediately darkens. “I had to get him out of there. It wasn’t an option to keep him there any longer.”

“What are you talking about?” she demands. “We both agreed — ”

“That was before Luke almost killed him!” Han shouts.

That definitely forces her to pause.

Han takes advantage of her silence to explain what happened. He tells her about how Ben finally commed after years of ignoring him. He tells her how he went to the temple and heard it from Luke’s own mouth. And he tells her how, after he finally got Ben alone on the Falcon, their son broke down in tears as he described years and years of torment.

Leia is silent as Han speaks, letting the words wash over her. She tries to let them sink in, but all of them come secondary to a single thought that she struggles to comprehend.

Her brother tried to kill her son.

Han falls silent after his explanation and for a prolonged moment the two of them just stand there as Leia struggles to understand. 

She closes her eyes and calls out to the Force with her mind. _Is it true?_ she asks desperately. _Is what my husband saying the truth?_

The Force answers her with brief flashes. It shows her a glimpse of her son no older than five, curled up in a ball in the corner of his bedroom weeping and clutching his head, whispering over and over to himself, “Go away...go away...leave me alone…”

It shows her another glimpse of him a little older, sparring with the other padawans. He knocks one of them to the ground with a savage ruthlessness in his eyes, before horror overtakes his expression and he runs away.

It shows her an image of her son asleep, tossing and turning in his pallet, sweating and terrified. Then he wakes with a start, screaming, “NO!”

And then...then she finally sees it.

She sees her brother, her own twin, standing above her sleeping son, his lightsaber held aloft and a crazed look in his eye. He’s about to swing it down before Ben awakes.

Leia pulls herself out of her trance with a jerk and a gasp. She doesn’t realize that tears are running down her face until Han reaches toward her to gently wipe them away.

“He’s upstairs sleeping,” Han tells her quietly. “I told him he’s not going back to that temple.”

Leia nods, unable to say anything. 

Her son. Her poor, sweet little boy.

*

Leia Organa has fought all her life. 

But that was the day she finally learned that she also needs to fight for her family.

*

Ben wakes from the first deep, untroubled sleep he’s had in...perhaps forever. He has no dreams of a scarred figure on a stone throne. He hears no hissing of a seductive voice, encouraging his anger and fear. No terrified screams or burning buildings haunt his psyche.

And when he wakes, he sees his childhood room, untouched and unperturbed.

With a yawn and a stretch, he clambers out of his too-small bed and follows the sound of soft murmurs downstairs. He finds his parents sitting in their kitchen, their heads close together as they discuss whatever they’re talking about. 

“No, no, that’s not going to work — ”

“But it could!” 

“Han, not every problem can be solved by jumping into the Falcon and blowing something up!”

Ben smiles to himself as he watches them. His mother and father are the most formidable spouses in the Galaxy. Their default setting is bickering, but only those closest to them understood that there were nuances to the bickering. Of course there’s a fair amount of knock-down, drag out fights complete with the slamming of doors and the breaking of crockery. There are also the passive-aggressive, snide comments that always result in at least one of them ripping their hair out. And of course, there are the screaming matches that result in Leia’s tears and Han walking out.

But there are also the fights that have love in them. These fights usually include Han being earnest, Leia being exasperated and the two of them eventually laughing and leaning into one another. 

This is one of them. Ben sees it.

Han reaches forward and wraps his arm around Leia’s shoulders. She leans her head into his chest and the two of them sigh together, both taking in breath and letting it out at the same time. 

Ben watches it and in a brief moment, he imagines him in his father’s place and Rey in his mother’s. He can picture the two of them, just sitting together after a long day, holding onto each other like it’s the only thing that matters. 

It will happen, he promises himself. He’ll make sure of it.

“Mom? Dad?”

The two of them turn and twin smiles bloom across their faces. 

“Ben,” his mother nods. She reaches toward him and he leans down to wrap his arms around her. She’s smaller than he remembers. It makes him sad to think about.

“Hi, Mom,” he murmurs.

“Oh, my boy,” she murmurs as she runs her small hands through his hair. “I’m glad you’re home.”

She’s telling the truth. He can feel it.

When she finally releases him, he takes a seat across the table from them. “So what are you guys talking about?”

He watches his parents exchange glances before his father answers. 

“I told your mother about what you told me,” he says. “We’re talking about where to go from here.”

Ben nods, looking down at the table. It’s only to be expected that his father would tell his mother. But Han _did_ promise that he wouldn’t have to go back to Luke’s temple, so now they all have to figure out what to do about him.

“There’s been rumors about this Snoke person,” his mother murmurs. “I’ve sat in on Intelligence briefings about him. Most of his operations are still concentrated in the outer worlds, outside of New Republic’s influence, so we haven’t made a concentrated effort to stamp it out. I think it’s time that changed.”

Ben looks up in confusion. They’re...they’re talking about what to do about _Snoke_?

“I suggested we just find out where this bastard is and shoot him,” Han mutters, and Ben snorts at that.

Leia rolls her eyes in exasperation. “And I told _you_ that you can’t just go up to a Sith Lord and shoot him. It’s not that simple. Besides, without any formal charges filed against him, killing him would be considered a crime.”

“So what, you’re just going to let him get away with doing whatever the hell he’s been doing? He’s been trying to get inside our son’s head for years now! Who knows what else this bastard is up to!”

Ben’s heart swells at his father’s words and tears start to prick at his eyes. This is what he’s wanted for so long — for his parents to believe him, to see that he was suffering and to help him. 

He feels seen for the first time in...maybe his whole life.

Leia must sense the emotions stirring in his son, because she turns her head to level him with a tender expression. “Are you all right?”

Ben doesn’t trust his voice to waver, so he just nods. His gaze is still trained on the wooden grain of the table in front of him. 

Without warning, Leia stands from her chair and goes to Ben to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before. But trust me — we’re going to find him. We’re going to take him out and you will be safe. OK?”

Ben’s childhood was built on memories of his parents’ broken promises, so part of him doesn’t trust that this is for real.

But then he remembers that his father came to get him. That he’s sitting here in his home with his mother and father. They’re all gathered here together and no one is shouting or blaming someone else for something. Maybe there’s a bit of crying, but it’s the good kind of crying. The cathartic kind. 

He can trust this. It’s safe here.

He nods and burrows his face into his mother’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mom.”

* * *

In the age of the Old Republic, the Sith laid in wait, biding their time as they planned for the day they would once again ascend and rule the Galaxy.

Palpatine didn’t become emperor by relying on a single plan. No, he had backups and contingencies for every single curveball that might be thrown his way.

Just as he does now.


	5. just a telephone wire and a railroad track

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey considers a career change. Well not so much considers, since considers implies a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH, sorry so much for the long wait! I hope this update makes up for it!

Jakku may be a backwater world covered in sand and filled with despair, but its weary residents still hear whispers of what’s going outside their corner of the galaxy.

When Rey was younger, she would linger on the outpost to hear offworld visitors tell tales of the Jedi and the Sith. Those stories always sounded more like legends to her young ears, but she ate them up regardless, like her precious portions.

They also told stories that were far more believable. Stories about bands of thieves and mercenaries, chasing each other across the galaxy and striking each other down for substances that could turn a person’s mind to mush, or for crystals that channeled enough power to fell an entire planet.

The name that strikes the most fear in Rey’s heart, however, was Crimson Dawn.

Whenever anyone said the words Crimson Dawn, a hush would fall over everyone gathered round. The person telling the story would lower their voices but everyone within a five yard vicinity still heard because they would lean in and strain to listen.

Everyone on Jakku knows a story about Crimson Dawn, but the one that is most embedded in Rey’s mind is the one about the Savarians. On nights when she can’t sleep, she watches the story play out in her mind’s eye — she pictures the Savarians, dressed in rags and covered in sand, much like the scavengers that surround her on a daily basis. She pictures the members of the Crimson Dawn, a band of men draped in dark red to hide their bodies and their faces. 

She imagines the Savarians taking their stand, defiant and proud. And then she imagines how swiftly Crimson Dawn struck, hunting down every Savarian they could find and ripping out their tongues.

The chatter on the outpost always indicated that Crimson Dawn — much like the Sith and the Jedi — was a relic of the past, an organization that no longer holds the influence it once did. And Jakku is far outside the reach of a diminished crime syndicate.

Until it isn’t.

*

Scavengers are a dime a dozen in Jakku. When one dies, no one bats an eyelash.

Junk bosses, on the other hand — those are rarer. When one dies, word spreads.

Rey knows this, which is why she spends the days after she murdered Plutt on the move. She knows his lackeys are coming after her, and she knows that other scavengers are going to try and steal her portions. So the best thing for her to do is to keep moving. 

On the fourth night after Plutt’s death, she sets up camp near the Goazan Badlands. She knows no self-preserving being would ever venture out this way after sundown, so she feels safe in hunkering down in the hollowed-out shell of an Imperial ship for the night.

What she hadn’t accounted for was the possibility of off-worlders venturing out and finding her.

She hears the sound of speeders long before she sees them, and she grabs her quarterstaff and a blaster. A tingling feeling washes over her — it’s the same feeling that guides her when she’s in the Graveyard. It’s an almost physical intuition that helps her avoid sand traps and treacherous footholds. She feels it now, telling her these are not scavengers — instead, they are far more dangerous.

“Well, well, well, boys!” Their speeders slow down and one of them shouts in a sneering tone. “Look what we have here!”

It’s dark and they’re all wearing masks to hide their lower faces, but Rey immediately identifies the leader. He sits at the front, taller than the rest of them and holding a blaster that’s bigger than her arm.

She watches as they dismount and saunter closer to her. Her grip on her own blaster tightens with every step they take.

“What do you think, Dag?” The one closest to her leans forward and peers down at her, as if to examine her closely.

Dag seems to be the leader. He taps his cheek as he considers her.

“Hmm. Perhaps. It’s hard to tell underneath all that dirt.”

“That’ll wash off easy,” someone says dismissively. “She’s small and young — you know how the Hutts like ‘em young.”

Bile rises in Rey’s throat. Faster than any of them can blink, she raises her blaster and shoots three rounds, each landing true on the three men closest to her. They fall the minute they’re hit, and she takes advantage of the shock to hop onto one of their speeders.

She hears the cursing and the blasters firing behind her, but she throws the throttle forward and she takes off before they can get her.

Rey has always been good at maneuvering heavy machinery — it comes as part of the job of being a scavenger. Though she’s never operated a speeder as new or as complicated as this one, she knows intuitively what to do. 

Unfortunately, she’s operating on too steep of a learning curve when there’s a group of dangerous men hot on her heels. They catch up to her easily and their leader, Dag, blasts her off the machine.

She braces herself for impact, tucking her head in and using her shoulders to roll in the sand. As she rights herself, Dag and two others dismount and charge toward her, blasters held aloft and pointing at her.

Adrenaline courses through Rey’s veins as she grips her staff. Then she rushes forward, swinging as they shoot. 

Using a quarterstaff in a blaster fight is perhaps an unwise choice, she thinks to herself in a dim corner of her brain. But it’s what she knows best.

Ducking to avoid the bolts, she lunges at her assailants to disarm them. She swings and parries, ducks and kicks, fighting the way the desert taught her to. Her assailants put up a decent fight, but it’s obvious that they are unused to shifting ground beneath their feet. They can barely remain upright as Rey beats them back.

She knocks the two smaller ones into the dirt, and the sinking sands immediately claim them. She scrambles uphill to avoid getting caught and she makes it — but so does Dag. And he retrieves his blaster.

He chuckles as he points the barrel at her. “Oh, Maker!” he exclaims, his voice breathy from his laughter and from the effort it took to fight her. “It’s been ages since I’ve come across one as feisty as you! I’m half tempted to let you go!”

Rey’s grip tightens around her staff. “Then why don’t you?”

She can’t tell, but she’s certain he’s smirking at her underneath his mask. “Definitely not. But I have a much better idea about what I’m going to do with you.”

And before she can ask just what the hell he means by that, he adjusts his blaster and shoots.

*

When Rey comes to, nothing looks familiar and she’s never felt more disoriented in her life.

She’s lying on something that isn’t exactly _comfortable_ , but it’s certainly softer than the pallet she keeps. The air around her isn’t the dry desert air she knows so well — instead it feels cool on her skin, far cooler than she’s used to.

And everything has gone dark. There’s no light. There’s no sound. She can hardly smell or feel anything. It’s the most terrifying experience in the world to have all your senses cut off from you in a moment.

The fear wells up inside of her, throbbing and pulsing in her veins. She’s felt panic, but never like this. Never this visceral, never this strong.

“Hey!” she screams, flinging her arms in front of her, looking to touch something — anything. “Help! Help!”

She stands, perhaps less gracefully than she normally would, and creeps forward. Her arms swing around in front of her, until her fingertips brush up against something solid. Her calloused fingertips immediately recognize durasteel.

Rey brings both her palms flat against what feels like a durasteel wall in front of her and bangs them hard, hoping that someone will hear her. 

“HELP! ANYONE! PLEASE, HELP!”

She has no frame of reference for how long she does this — it simply feels like ages. In her mounting anxiety, her fists start pounding against the durasteel, harder and harder as if in her hysteria she believes she can break it.

But then the wall disappears, and light floods the darkened room. Rey squints to protect the sudden assault on her eyes, seeing nothing but a blurry outline in front of her. 

“Maker, would you keep that shit _down_?” an annoyed voice snaps. “Some of us are trying to _rest_.”

Rey’s heart is still pounding, but the fear is perhaps less than before, now that there’s light and now that she realizes that this person doesn’t sound at all inclined to attack her. Or perhaps they are, since she had seemingly interrupted attempts at sleep.

But she’s still wary.

“Where am I?” she demands. “Who are you?”

She blinks a few times and the massive outline solidifies. The person annoyed with her starts to come into view and she realizes it’s a woman — a giant woman. She’s wearing the same dark robes as the group of men who attacked her in the desert, but she didn’t bother with the hood and mask, showing off a sharp face and silver blonde hair cropped short around her jaw.

The woman examines Rey with an unimpressed look. “You must be the junk Dag picked up off of Jakku.”

Rey bristles.

“Very well, I suppose now that you’re awake, I should take you to him. Though if you try to attack him again, I guarantee he won’t be as kind as to stun you again. Come to think of it, so will I. So no funny business, or I’ll feed you to the rathtars.”

Before Rey say a thing, the woman grabs her round the arm and yanks her forward, marching her down a dimly lit tunnel. She struggles in the woman’s grip, but she’s also distracted by her surroundings. Rey’s almost certain that she’s on some kind of ship, but she’s never seen this before.

“Would you at least tell me where the hell I am?” she demands.

The woman isn’t looking at her, but Rey has a feeling she’s wearing an expression full of annoyance. “You’re on the Hammerhead.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Rey can feel the woman rolling her eyes at her.

“It’s a VCX-100 light freighter.”

Rey’s eyebrows jump up her forehead. She knows the VCX line is one of Corellian Engineering Corporation’s sleekest designs, outfitted with a class 2 hyperdrive and two dual laser turrets. If Plutt were still alive, he would have traded in one of his legs to gut this ships — both legs to own it.

These are not the kind of ships that venture out to the Outer Rim. 

“What in the world is a VCX-100 light freighter doing on Jakku?” she asks suspiciously.

The woman snorts at her question. “Do me a favor — ask Dag that question, and if he answers, let me know what it is.”

Rey is led through the ship until they reach the galley. It’s spacious, for a light freighter — at least three times as big as her old AT-AT. A circular sofa sits in the center of the room, surrounding a tiny circular table.

And sitting alone on that circular couch is the same man who attacked Rey.

“Ah, Phasma! I see you have met the scrappy scavenger,” Dag greets jovially.

The woman — Phasma, it seems — shakes her head. “Kept thrashing about in that closet you stuffed her in. Wouldn’t shut up and woke me up.”

Rey stiffens at the knowledge that they stuck her in a _closet_.

“What am I doing here?” she demands.

Dag examines her with amusement glinting in his black eyes. In the light of the galley, Rey can see his canny face much more easily than she could in the dim moonlight of the Jakku night, and she sees someone with a great capacity for intelligence and cruelty.

“Phasma, dear, if you could please give us some privacy?”

She releases her grip on Rey without a second thought, then walks out, leaving her alone with Dag.

Once she’s gone, Dag stands from his seat and makes his way over to where Rey stands. She stiffens as he approaches, clenching her fists and following his movements with wary eyes. 

“I’m warning you,” she says in a low voice, “if you plan on putting me on the skin market, I will kill you and everyone else on this ship.”

Dag chuckled. “Oh, my dear scavenger, I will admit that when we landed on your dusty little planet that _had_ been our original intent. But then you took down half my men with your puny little staff and now I’m in need for a new crew. So I’m offering you a position with me.”

Well that throws her for a loop.

“You — you’re _what_?”

“I want you to join me,” Dag continues. “You’re young, but it’s clear that you’re tough. I knew you’d have to be, given that you lived on Jakku and you were clearly on your own. But that kind of ferocity I saw? My dear, that is rarer than coaxium. I need someone like you on my crew, and given that you killed off half of them, I daresay you owe me.”

Rey blinks at him, hardly comprehending what he’s offering her.

He realizes that she’s having a difficult time, so he rubs his jaw as he hums. “Let’s try it this way. What’s your name?”

She hesitates at his question, but eventually decides there’s little danger in the answer.

“Rey.”

“Rey what?”

She clenches her fists.

“That’s it. Just Rey.”

Dag hums. “Very well, just Rey. Let me play out two options for you.

“The first option you’ve already indicated is not something you are willing to choose, but let me describe it for you anyway. In this scenario, I drug you, chip you and sell you on the skin market like I had initially planned. Certainly, you are a feisty one, but the chances of _you_ killing me on this ship now that you are unarmed are slim indeed. If you try, I might end up putting a scar on that pretty face of yours which will fetch me a much lower price and make me angry. Given the unpredictability of my anger, that will either result in more scars on your person and a far seedier brothel for you to end up in, or I might just get so frustrated that I decide you’re not worth the effort and kill you myself.”

Panic blossoms in Rey’s chest as he describes that scenario. 

“The second option, I think, is much more attractive. It involves you taking me up on my offer to join the crew of the Hammerhead, where you will get a bunk, three square meals a day and a fair cut in the credits we bring in. All of that in exchange for your cooperation.”

“Cooperation with what?” she demands.

Dag shrugs. “In the jobs we take on. You’re tough and quick on your feet — I doubt you’d find the work very taxing.”

Rey narrows her eyes. She knows he’s being purposefully vague, so she pushes harder.

“And just _what_ kind of jobs do you ordinarily take on?”

Dag’s smile widens, his eyes glinting. “Oh, just the odd job here and there. One day it might be transporting goods. Another day it might be procuring said goods. We like to be flexible and keep our options flexible.”

Transporting goods — she knows that phrase. She heard it every day at the Niima Outpost, usually from pirates and smugglers. And given that this man has no qualms about selling her on the skin market, she very much doubts the kinds of jobs they take on are at all legal.

Rey purses her lips as she considers him.

“What about the third option?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “There isn’t one.”

“I think there is,” she pushes. “And it’s that you turn around, go back to Jakku and leave me there.”

Well that certainly surprises him. “You — my _dear_ , you don’t honestly want me to take you back to that junkyard?”

Rey stares at him, her eyes hard as flint.

He bursts into laughter when he realizes she’s serious. “Oh Maker! You’re serious!”

“I have to go back,” Rey insists. “I’m waiting for — ” She abruptly cuts herself off, biting hard on her tongue. She doesn’t owe this man an explanation. Her reasons are her own.

“I have to go back,” she repeats.

For the first time in her short acquaintance with this man, she senses an odd emotion coming from him — could it be pity?

“Whatever you’re waiting for, it won’t find you on Jakku,” he says. “And regardless, taking you back is not an option. Unlike you, I do not believe in going back, and I think that is something you could benefit from.”

The voice comes floating back in her mind.

 _They’re not coming back for you,_ it hisses. _They left you. Abandoned you. There is nothing left for you on Jakku._

She screws her eyes tight against the words that slice into her. It brings up images of her, all those years ago. Plutt squeezes her upper arm as she cries and screams at the ship flying away with the people who left her in his care.

It was ten years ago. They never returned.

They still could, a small part of her mind argues. They could come back.

_They won’t. No one is coming back for you._

Her blood boils and tears threaten to leak out the corners of her closed eyes.

If it’s true … if no one is coming back for her … and Plutt is dead and his band of lackeys are hunting her …

Maybe there really is nothing left for her on Jakku.

*

Two standard days later, Rey’s working with Phasma to tune up the hyperdrive on the Hammerhead when she finally gathers the courage to ask the question that’s been haunting her since she took Dag Mora’s offer and joined his crew.

“Phasma — are we an independent outfit?”

The other woman glances at her in confusion. “What?”

“I mean … smugglers would land on Jakku every so often. Sometimes they worked for themselves. Sometimes they worked for other organizations.”

Phasma’s expression clears. “Oh. You’re asking if we work for someone?”

“Yeah.”

She finishes fusing her last few wires, then shuts the panel. “Sure we do.”

“Who is it, then?”

Phasma shoots her a smile that sends chills down Rey’s spine.

“Crimson Dawn, of course.”

* * *

In another life, in another galaxy that looks remarkably similar to this, the great Jedi Master Yoda once imparted an important lesson to his former student.

_“The greatest teacher, failure is. Luke, we are what they grow beyond. That is the true burden of all masters.”_

In every life, in every galaxy, in every timeline, this is the most important lesson of all.


	6. keep on walking and don't look back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Skywalker is not used to messing up, so when he does, he runs.
> 
> Well, Ben is not about to let THAT happen.

Luke Skywalker never had the luxury of being allowed to fail.

The minute he was born, the hopes of an entire galaxy were thrust upon him. Born in secret, hidden and protected until he was ready, he was groomed and trained to bear the burden of bringing balance to the Force.

Failure on his part meant the imprisonment and subjugation of millions of beings all across the galaxy. Failure meant death and destruction. 

Failure was not an option.

He is the hope of the Rebellion. He represents the last of the Jedi. He is the symbol of freedom to everyone in the galaxy.

It’s truly a wonder that Luke Skywalker hasn’t buckled under the pressure long before this.

*

Ben watches out the viewport as the waters of Ahch-To grow closer and closer, and he wonders for maybe the millionth time how the Jedi Order — the prestigious order that kept peace throughout the galaxy — was born on this odd, water covered rock, so far out in the Unknown Regions.

He knows his uncle is here, on this rock. His mother told him that after Han took Ben home, the shamed Jedi released his students, closed his Temple and ran into exile.

It figures, Ben thinks angrily to himself. Of course his self-centered uncle would run and hide rather than try to face his mistakes.

Both Han and Leia were surprised when Ben told them he knew how to find Luke, and they were even _more_ surprised when he said he needed to go to him.

They are, of course, still angry that Luke had nearly killed their son, and Ben isn’t exactly thrilled about it either. Unfortunately for all of them, Luke Skywalker is still the last Jedi the galaxy has. He is the only living being with the greatest knowledge of the Force and Jedi lore. Ben needs that now.

The Falcon breaks through the atmosphere on Ahch-To. Ben settles himself and reaches into the Force to find his uncle’s signature. 

But he can’t find it. Instead, he feels something different — something stronger. It’s like a deep reservoir of energy, powerful and ancient.

He steers the Falcon to follow the Force’s call and a rocky island rises on the horizon before him. He slowly descends on a small flat on the corner of the island, and when he lands, the thrum of this deep energy floods him. It feels like plunging into a deep pool of the Force — it soaks him and consumes him.

He still can’t find his uncle’s signature, but Ben knows he’s here. 

As he explores the island, he realizes he’s seen this before, though he’s never set food on Ahch-To before. He recognizes in his bond with Rey — it was in the aftermath of their battle on Starkiller Base, when they were still recognizing the link between them. 

She had been here. This was where she was when she finally learned the truth. This is where she was before she flew across the galaxy to save him.

He closes his eyes as he remembers. He remembers gazing down into her wide hazel eyes as she lay in the escape pod. He remembers the lift ride as he takes her to Snoke, those same hazel eyes telling him that he will stand with her, in the end.

He did. He stood with her and then she fell.

His heart clenches at the last memory he has of those hazel eyes, blank and lifeless. He shies away from it, instinctively. It hurts too much to remember.

Instead, he clings to the memory of their hands pressed together. She was here on Ahch-To in that sacred moment. Being here feels like a link to her.

He’ll take what he can get at this point.

*

Every day since Luke has been in exile, he’s tried to show repentance by ruminating on his many failings. He chooses a new failing every day, because he knows he has enough to keep up this practice for the rest of his life. 

The one he reflects on today is his hubris. 

That’s the only word that can describe his overblown self-importance. He believed that he was the only one that could bring the Jedi back. He believed that he could maintain the balance in the Force. He believed that he could be as wise and as beloved as Master Yoda.

How foolish.

Cut off from the Force as he is now, he doesn’t realize that he’s no longer the only human on this planet until he sees none other than his greatest failure walking toward him with a determined expression.

To say Luke feels shock would be an understatement. Ahch-To is in the Unknown Regions, emphasis on the _unknown_ part. How in the world did his nephew manage to find him?

What’s more, _why_ is he even here? After he tried to kill him? After that night that Luke cannot bring himself to remember?

“Ben…” Luke whispers. “How...what…”

Ben stops, maybe three yards away from him. He’s no longer wearing the robes of a Padawan — instead, he’s dressed remarkably like his father, in a white shirt, dark pants and sturdy boots. 

Luke recognizes now that he looks much better in these ordinary clothes than he ever did draped in the trappings of a Padawan.

“Uncle Luke,” he greets him. “I need your help.”

It would be so easy to open the door to the Force, to let it flow through him and to reach into his nephew’s mind to find out why he’s really here. So easy.

But no. He has exiled himself and cut himself off from the Force for a _reason_. That reason is standing in front of him right now.

Luke turns on his heel and starts back up the steps to his hut. “I can’t help you. You should leave, Ben.”

“You owe me!”

That makes Luke stop in his tracks.

“You owe me,” Ben snarls. “You took me in when I was only ten, cut me off from everything I’d ever known and trained me as a Jedi only to try and kill me when I needed help the most. My own _uncle_.”

Luke closes his eyes as each of Ben’s words pierce him.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know, either. You knew that Snoke had been targeting me. You could feel it in the Force. You knew that he had been in my mind all my life and I had been trying to hold him off, but you did _nothing_.”

Shame washes over Luke as Ben levels his accusations. He’s right — Luke had known all along. He sensed that he was being targeted by the Dark Side, but his solution had been to train him even harder in the Light. He believed that if he continued on and trained Ben the way he had been trained, the temptation of the Dark Side would end.

Again. Hubris.

“I didn’t need a master,” Ben continues, his voice softer now. “I didn’t need a _Jedi_. I just needed my goddamn uncle.”

Luke finally turns around, and he sees his nephew standing there, anguish clear as day on his face.

“Why?” Ben demands. “Why couldn’t you have just been my uncle? For once, in your life, why couldn’t you have just...seen me as your nephew rather than your Padawan?”

Luke has no answers that would satisfy him. His only excuse is that he is Luke Skywalker, the legend. Legends don’t have families, and they certainly don’t have nephews.

“Ben…” Luke whispers. “Ben, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I failed you.”

His nephew looks down at his feet and a long silence stretches between the two of them.

Then Ben breaks it.

“Well, now’s the time to redeem yourself. I need your help.”

Luke sighs.

The denial sits at the tip of his tongue, and perhaps Ben senses that because before Luke can even speak, he’s barreling ahead.

“Just — will you just listen first, before you turn me away? You owe me that.”

He sighs again. His nephew always has been persistent — he blames Leia for that.

“Very well. Follow me.”

He takes Ben up the steps to the huts overlooking the cliff side. They enter the hut Luke has claimed as his own, and with a grunt and a sigh, he settles into his seat and examines his nephew.

And Ben gets straight to the point.

“I’ve experienced a vergence in the Force.”

Luke’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

For the first time since Ben landed, Luke can see trepidation on his nephew’s face. It’s like he’s almost afraid to explain it. Or maybe he’s afraid of something else.

“I...I don’t know how else to say it, but…” he takes in a deep breath. “I’m from the future. And the Force has somehow brought me back in time.”

If Luke had been capable of any kind of reaction in that moment, it might have been to chuckle. He’d believed he was the most learned being in existence when it came to the ways of the Force.

Hubris, he thinks dimly to himself.

*

Ben starts from the beginning and spends hours recounting his tale. By the time he’s finished, the twin suns have set, and only the barest light remains, leaving the two of them alone in Luke’s hut to ruminate in darkness.

It all sounds so — implausible. Unbelievable. Surreal.

Luke feels the now-familiar stirring inside of him. It’s the longing inside of him to once again be open to the Force. In his first few days on Ahch-To, the longing felt more like an itch, an almost aching discomfort when he cut himself off. It had been uncomfortable, but he persevered, refusing to give in until it dulled into this now throb.

He’s torn now. His stubbornness wants to hold on, but when he looks at his nephew’s pleading and haunted face…

Luke’s resolve finally breaks, and he lets the door open. The Force floods him and it feels like joy, a reunion he didn’t realize he wanted until it happens. When he reacquaints himself with the feeling, he stills his mind and his spirt and lets it all take over.

As he meditates, the Force shows him glimpses. Just the barest flashes, but it’s enough for him to draw the conclusions. He sees his nephew draped in black, wielding a crude lightsaber, crackling and unbalanced. He sees Ben kneeling before a grotesque humanoid form that radiates evil and darkness. He sees Ben shaking as he thrusts his broken lightsaber into his father and watches as he falls.

And then he sees Ben weeping over a lifeless body. Again, it’s only a glimpse, but the body is small and wiry, draped in white and covered in dirt and bruises.

That must be Rey, he thinks idly.

The Force retreats at that last image, and then it’s just Luke and Ben alone in his hut.

“Well?” Ben asks, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Luke watches his nephew’s pleading face. Ben has always been passionate and full of emotions. In Luke’s arrogance, he believed that these emotions had made him a weak Jedi.

But after what the Force showed him, Luke knows now that Ben’s passionate nature is what saves him. What will save him.

And it will save others, too.

“I believe you, Ben,” he says. “And I will help you.”

* * *

Dyads in the Force are rare.

A man who has the strength, resolve and dedication to follow the woman he loves through space and time to save her from death — that’s rarer.

A woman who does not fall to the Dark Side after abandonment, abuse, starvation and the loss of all hope — that’s impossible.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it, please let me know! 
> 
> Also, I’m on jamaninja on Tumblr. Come say hi!


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